


Hiding Out

by TiyeTiye



Series: Ivar and Lisbet - Victorian AU [1]
Category: Keep Your Silence, Vikings - Fandom
Genre: Couple of book nerds, English country house, F/M, First Meeting, Hiding in the library, Library, garden party, victorian au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-24 22:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14365299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiyeTiye/pseuds/TiyeTiye
Summary: Dragged against his will to an Earl's garden party at his estate out in the country, Ivar manages to slip away from the crowd to hide out in the library. When he gets there, he finds someone else had the same idea.





	Hiding Out

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Keep Your Silence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10732503) by [livebynight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/livebynight/pseuds/livebynight). 



If Ivar Lothbrok had to listen to the Count of Something-or-Other drone on for  _one more minute_ about his  _stupid hunting dogs_ , he was going to shove the old man off the edge of the terrace.

Gritting his teeth, he managed to smile and nod along at the old man’s inane comments at the appropriate times, attention dipping in and out as he scanned the rest of the crowd. It was unseasonably cold for that time of year, enough to make his legs ache. The gentlemen were all snug in their wool jackets, the ladies securely wrapped up in caplets and coats. This entire party was a frivolous waste of time - a bunch of people driving out from London to spend days at some Earl’s drafty country estate, and for what? For the men could go hunting? For the women to…play cards? And every night there would be another ball that he would be forced to attend, standing in the corner and forced to smile at people he didn’t care about while his brothers made eyes at heiresses and whirled them across the dance floor.

This was all Ubbe’s fault. Bjorn was off on his stupid “grand tour” of the continent so Ubbe had taken the reins of the family company in his absence. He’d pointed out when they’d received the invitation that many of their clients and business associates would be there, as well as a bevy of potential new business partners, so it would be in everyone’s best interest for them to attend. The mention of a flock of unmarried daughters was enough to convince Hvitserk and Sigurd, but Ubbe had to remind Ivar of the past  _five_  invitations that he’d declined, and how he was beginning to develop a  _certain reputation_  in  _certain circles._ A reputation that would prove  _very bad_ for their company and thus very bad for their  _entire family_  if it were allowed to grow and develop. Ivar had hemmed and hawed and whined and argued, but he’d had his valet pack his luggage just the same.

Ivar shifted his weight on his crutches, eyes scanning the crowd on the terrace again, looking for someone to save him from the old dotard blathering on in front of him. How was the old man  _still talking?_ Was he going to keep going until supper? Of course there was no sign of his brothers - Hvitserk had taken the arm of a tall blond woman and was currently strolling with her along one of the garden promenades, and Sigurd was currently deep in conversation with some Duke’s son. A flash of pink caught his eye and Ivar turned to see Ubbe leading Margrethe  across the terrace and back inside the house. That was his out.

Seizing a break in the Count’s nattering, Ivar smoothly cut in. “Won’t you excuse me my lord? My sister in law hasn’t been feeling well and I ought to go look in on her.”

“Oh, eh, of course young man - of course! Such dreadful weather we’ve been having for a lady in her condition. But we must talk again after supper!”

Ivar summoned up the best smile he could muster, bowed over his crutches, and was gone as quickly as politeness would allow.

He allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief once he made it inside. It was blessedly warmer in here, and as he made his way through the halls he saw no one but a few servants. It wasn’t far to the particular room he’d was seeking, and he was nearly positive it would be empty at this time of day. Pushing open the door, Ivar was greeted by the comforting smells of old leather, pipe tobacco, and ink. The library.  

Carefully picking his way across the thick carpet, Ivar ran an appreciative hand along a row of spines. The Earl did have  _quite_  the impressive collection - shelf after shelf of books bound in dyed calfskin. Pity that Ivar was sure that 90% of them had never been read.

“Are you hiding too?”

Startled out of his calm, Ivar turned to see a young woman seated in a tall armchair near the hearth across the room. She was quite a petite thing, the book in her lap held by slim, delicate fingers. Her tawny bronze skin glowed against the soft lilac color of her dress, and while her expression was curious, the dark hazel eyes behind her pair of round spectacles were not unkind.

“I beg your pardon?” Ivar said, trying to recover.

“Are you hiding too?” the woman repeated.

“From whom?”

The woman waved a hand towards the door. “From them, the whole lot of them. Doing their silly little dances and playing their silly little games.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about madam.”

“Ah. Of course not. Forgive me from interrupting your book hunt then.” The woman gave him a pleasant smile and went back to her book.

Ivar studied her for a moment, brow furrowed, then glanced at the shelves again. “I wasn’t aware the Countess had a fondness for Jane Austen novels,” he scoffed.  

The woman looked up at him and arched an eyebrow. “She doesn’t. But the Earl does have a recent edition of Mr. Gray’s “Anatomy of the Human Body” that is quite good.” She lifted the book long enough for Ivar to scan the title on the cover. “Pity that I appear to be the first person to ever actually  _read it_.”

Ivar laughed. He couldn’t help himself. The woman arched an eyebrow again, a small smile on her lips.

“Have I said something funny?”

Ivar made his way over to her, leaning his crutches against the seat next to hers and still smiling. “No, no, not on purpose. It’s only that I was just having the exact same thought.”

The woman grinned, her eyes lighting up behind her spectacles, and Ivar felt a curious clenching in his chest. “Ah, yes. The Earl does like to appear quite the scholar, doesn’t he?”

“Indeed it appears he does. Shame to leave them so untouched though.” Ivar leveraged his hold on the empty armchair until he was standing next to the woman’s seat. He took her hand and politely bowed over it. “Please forgive my earlier rudeness. I am Ivar Lothbrok. And you are?”

“Miss Lisbet Corneliussen. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mister Lothbrok. Would you care to join me?”

“I would be delighted.” Ivar took the empty armchair next to hers and sighed as the heat of the fire began to ease the aches out of his legs. He gestured at the book in her lap.

“So…. is it good?”

Lisbet’s face broke into a wide smile. She picked the book up and clutched it to her chest like a child’s toy. “Yes,  _quite_  good.”

“May I ask what is behind your interest in anatomy, Miss Corneliussen?”

“I plan on studying to become a doctor.”

Ivar struggled to keep the shock off of his face. “A doctor?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“You…You do not wish to marry?”

Lisbet sighed, closing the book in her lap, and shaking her head as she stroked her fingers over its fine calfskin cover.

“That is an entirely different matter.”

“How so?”

Lisbet took a deep breath, and Ivar got the feeling that he had accidentally reopened a much scarred-over wound.

“While I am not against the idea of marriage,” Lisbet said, slowly and carefully, “It has been  _suggested_  to me by certain people I have come into contact with over the course of my life, that a woman with a….a  _complexion_  such as mine might not receive too many marriage proposals. And while my family is quite well-to-do, that it might be better for me to have the means to make my own way should I ever need to. Hence, medicine. ”

“Ah….I see.” Ivar said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Lisbet noticed his discomfort and reached over to pat him on the arm. “Not to worry Mr. Lothbrok. I’ll be alright. Besides, if Mama gets her way, she’ll keep dragging me to these tedious parties, match me up with some lordling, and have me married off by twenty…. And I’m sure whoever he is will regard my interests as little more than an eccentricity that he must bear in exchange for my dowry.” The last was said with a sardonic tilt to her lips.  

Ivar tried to smile at her - being reassuring wasn’t something he had much experience with. “You never know, Miss Corneliussen. You might find a husband who shares your interests, someone who won’t bar your way to your heart’s desires.”

Lisbet laughed, a rich, warm sound like summer rain. “You are  _quite the dreamer_ aren’t you Mister Lothbrok?”

Ivar laughed with her. “Ah…. perhaps? If you spoke to my brothers they might tell you differently. Dreaming too much is not something I have often been accused of.”

“And what  _are_  you often accused of, Mr. Lothbrok?”

Ivar looked up and caught her gaze, his ice blue eyes locked onto her warm hazel for the space of several heartbeats as the breath caught in his chest. The moment stretched on, the two of them entranced, the silence broken only by the crackling fire in the hearth, until Ivar felt a flush rise in his cheeks and broke away with a huff of laughter.

“Forgive me, that was…. improper.” Lisbet said, trying to stifle a grin.

“That’s quite alright….I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Lisbet’s grin broke free. “Deal,” she said.  

Ivar shifted in his chair to lean closer to her. “So, forgive me for prying, but…. you’ve explained your desire to be able to earn your own income, but why medicine in particular? Why not teaching? Or becoming a governess?”

“Because humans are….” She cocked her head, brow furrowing as she struggled to find the right word, and Ivar felt the clenching in his chest again. “Because humans fascinate me, I suppose. Our bodies are so complex, so mechanical and yet so organic, and I find it wonderful to see how what has come apart might yet be put back together. And because the world could always use more doctors.”

Ivar nodded. “Admirable….quite admirable.”

The sound of the library’s heavy wooden door thudding into the wood paneling startled the two of them out of their reverie. Ivar turned around to see his brother Sigurd standing in the doorway.

“ _There_  you are.”

“Yes?” Ivar hissed.

“Ubbe is looking for you. Says you need to come and meet the Earl of Hendon with him.”

“Of course he does,” Ivar growled. Turning back to Lisbet he gave her an apologetic smile and reached for his crutches.

“Duty calls, I’m afraid.”

“It always tends to do that at the most unfortunate times.”

“It does indeed.”

Leveraging himself upright, Ivar took her hand and bowed over it, placing the gentlest kiss on her knuckles.

“It was good talking with you, Miss Corneliussen. I am….I am glad to have met you.”

“Likewise, Mister Lothbrok. Perhaps I shall see you at supper, or at the ball this evening?”

“I would like that,” Ivar said, surprising himself by actually meaning it.

“Ivar,  _if you please?_  Earls do not like to be kept waiting,” Sigurd called from the doorway.

Ivar sighed and gave Lisbet one last smile before he turned to go, but halfway across the thick carpet a thought made him stop  and turn back to her. He noted with satisfaction that she hadn’t gone immediately back to her book, but had instead been watching him leave.

“Have you been to see the Da Vinci notebooks in the British Library?” he asked. “The Codex Arundel is quite interesting. And quite beautiful.”

Lisbet shook her head, her hazel eyes dancing behind her spectacles. “I have not.”

“You should go…. I think you would like it.”

“If you think so, then I most certainly must. Thank you.”

Ivar gave her one last little bow. “Until later, Miss Corneliussen.”

“Until later, Mister Lothbrok.”

———————————————————————————————

That night at that evening’s ball, Ivar had taken his usual place in his usual corner and was well on his way towards resigning himself to another night of watching other people dance interspersed with pointless chit-chat. Until a soft touch on his elbow saved him. It was Lisbet.

“Miss Corneliussen,” Ivar said, trying not to sputter as he bowed to her. “You look lovely this evening.”

And she did. Lisbet had exchanged that morning’s lilac dress for an evening gown of deep sea blue, her spectacles were gone, and her dark curly hair was fashionably piled up on top of her head. Even better, she was carrying a glass of champagne in each of her gloved hands, one of which she handed to him before dropping into a curtsey.

“Thank you, Mister Lothbrok. You looked like you were hiding out again, so I thought I would bring you a drink and come and join you if that’s all right.”

Ivar chuckled. “Quite alright indeed. But are you sure you wouldn’t rather be dancing?”

Lisbet shook her head. “I’m not much of a dancer. I’m afraid I look a bit silly when I try. People say nice things whenever I do, but I’m sure they’re just being polite.”

“Well…. if you’re sure.”

Lisbet looked up at him and smiled, holding up her glass in a toast.

“Quite sure.”


End file.
